Page 48 of The Secret Play

Cooking had never been my strong suit. I knew a few dishes well enough not to starve, but I was no culinary genius. My hands moved on autopilot, chopping vegetables and marinating chicken while my mind replayed every possible scenario for the night ahead.

If I told him and he laughed in my face, I’d send him packing.

If I told him and he broke down crying, I’d be there for him and choke on his anger at me while begging him not to take it out on Winnie.

If I told him and he stormed out…I had no idea what to do then.

When the time came, I set the table with a precision that bordered on obsession. Two plates, two glasses, and a carefully folded napkin at each place. Everything looked perfect. Weirdly perfect. I moved a fork askew so I didn’t seem any more psychotic than I was feeling at this panicked moment.

I glanced at the clock. Any minute now.

When Casey knocked on the door, I thought I might vomit. I took a deep breath, smoothed my hands down the front of my sweater, and opened the door.

“Hey,” he said, giving me a warm, easy smile. The smile that I couldn’t get enough of.

“Hey,” I replied, stepping aside to let him in.

He leaned down to kiss my cheek, and the gesture was so casual, so normal, that it made my whole body ache.

The scent of him—earthy like a forest—filled the room, unraveling me. I wished we could skip the next part of things. The arguments, the bickering, the truth. I wanted to go straight to the bed with my sins forgiven. Wasn’t that what makeup sex was for?

But we couldn’t get to the makeup sex without the other stuff first, so I’d take my lumps. I could do this. I had raised my baby girl on my own. I could do anything, right?

Right?

We sat down to eat, and Casey said, “Well, I have something to tell you.”

He hates me. I know he does. “By all means.”

“There’s a rumor going around at work that I have an illegitimate child, and I abandoned her mother.”

My fork clattered onto my plate. “What?”

“Obviously, it’s just a rumor, but some of the players are convinced it’s true. I’ve got your brother and the other veterans running defense for me, and Whitney. I’m doing what I can to handle it, keeping a tight leash on the guys while they figure out what’s what.” He sighed. “It’s a headache, but nothing more.”

I felt sick. “Glad to hear it’s under control.”

“Whitney’s a miracle worker,” he said with a chuckle, swirling the wine in his glass. “I don’t know how she does it.”

“Whitney’s amazing,” I parroted.

“What about you?” he asked, his blue eyes steady on mine. “How’s work?”

“Busy.”

“Anything interesting?”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around my fork. “Just deadlines. You know how it is.”

He nodded, but the way his gaze lingered told me he wasn’t buying my deflection. “Glad you’re making time for this tonight. Winnie around?”

I shook my head. “Megan’s got her for the night.”

“I’m glad you have that kind of support so close.”

Numbly, I nodded. “One of the benefits of being in Atlanta.” I rambled on about other things, but I knew better. Casey was too perceptive to miss the fact that something was wrong, and the longer I stayed silent, the harder it became to find the right moment to speak.

When dinner was over, he leaned back in his chair, studying me with a curious expression. “All right,” he said, his tone calm but pointed. “What’s actually going on?”

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